It’s not every day your college is in the NCAA Championship game, which we haven’t been in twenty long years… not since the North Carolina time-out debacle of 1993. I sympathize with Chris Webber, because I know I’m destined to make some fatal mistake that turns into a media frenzy and which defines me for the rest of my life. I mean, I make those almost every day, so that’s going to become a serious problem if I ever become famous.
As far as sports go, you can probably tell I’m a really bad fan. Football’s fine, but it’s when basketball season rolls around that things get hairy. Basketball doesn’t do it for me. It stresses me out on levels. The end of the Syracuse game last night almost killed me, and don’t even talk to me about Kansas. (See? I’ve been watching since the Sweet Sixteen. That’s not too bad, right? Right?) The only reason I ever watch basketball is when a) my family’s watching it, or b) I have a vested interest. But I still always have to lean over and ask someone, “So, college basketball—quarters or halves? And why do they change it?”
We’re not going to talk about hockey. The last hockey game I went to was in high school, and it was because the fan section’s theme was Harry Potter. I brought my wand and I still only lasted like half an hour.